


Not So Weightless

by punknerdmusings



Series: Hard to Breathe [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Airbender Ozai (Avatar), Airbender Sokka (Avatar), Airbender Zuko (Avatar), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ozai's just trying his best, he's just got a lot of trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29854458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punknerdmusings/pseuds/punknerdmusings
Summary: Ozai is an airbender. This changes everything.
Relationships: Hakoda/Ozai (Avatar), Ozai & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Hard to Breathe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2194896
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I keep pulling titles from songs I like

There had been a child in an iceberg, and they just so happened to be flying over when it surfaced by chance. The otherworldly glow had caught his eye in the dead of night, and so he directed Paya down, the still-young sky bison having just enough space to stand on the ledge that sat right above the water. Zuko was still asleep as Ozai grabbed his staff, rubbing the embedded wood piece from his original absentmindedly. He jumped down, examining the odd prison. Perfectly round, with ridges that reminded him of airbending. 

“This isn’t normal,” Ozai muttered. He stepped closer, his breath hanging in the air, his eyes tracing the outline of a boy and a bison. He couldn’t have been more than 13, tattoos glowing bright, the bison suspended above him. It was eerily peaceful, a low hum emanating from the ice. And then the boy’s eyes opened, the white-blue glow matching his tattoos.

Ozai had grown up on stories of airbending Avatars, courtesy of his mother. How they were forces of nature, the most deadly of all airbenders, because they were not bound to the oath of peace and kindness in the same way the rest of the Air Nomads were. His mother had never taken that oath. He had never taken that oath. It certainly did make an airbender more deadly, to not be bound to such trivial things as caring for all life. It let them survive longer.

When the iceberg cracked open, the Air Nomad boy fell. Zuko joined him, dark bags under his eyes and blinking sleep away. They stood together, silent, listening to the wind howl around them. Ozai watched the boy’s, the Avatar’s, chest rise and fall, waiting for him to stir. When it was clear he wasn’t waking up any time soon, Ozai slid down the inside of the frozen orb. Crouched near the body, put two fingers against his neck. A faint heartbeat, for sure, but stable.

“We should get him to the nearby village. I saw their fires before this iceberg popped up.” Ozai stored his staff on his back, before unceremoniously sliding his arms under the boy’s knees and back.

“What about the bison?” Zuko had followed him down and walked over to the furry animal, checking it over.

“Try and wake it up. I’m not making another trip out here.” Ozai jumped out of the crater, air tugging at his armor as he landed first on the top of the ridge, and then on Paya with a second jump. She held still as he dug out his old harness and clipped it into the leather and rope that was wrapped around her. It was far too loose on the child, but it was better than nothing, and he wasn’t about to lose the Avatar. He had a plan forming in the back of his head about how he would use this to his advantage.

Zuko soon joined him, the Avatar’s bison quietly lowing as Zuko clipped himself in, settling down for some more sleep as Ozai quietly got her flying. The older bison tried to follow, but only splashed into the water. Another distressed cry came from the animal, and Ozai kept Paya low to appease it. He listened to the wind as they traveled, closing his eyes as it sang the secrets of his people. The shift in the icy sound, from deep, slushy crashes to a web of chirping as cracks formed under a massive animal’s weight right on the edge, made him open them to see the small Water Tribe village only a few minutes away. He guided Paya to touch down right outside the tents, before moving to her back to unclip the Air Nomad as the sun finally peeked over the horizon. Ozai stood and paused, watching the sunrise, his face unreadable until he jumped down and it settled on his usual faint scowl.

A boy and girl came out of a nearby tent. The boy couldn’t be older than Zuko, and the girl was even younger as they slid into ready stances. Two pairs of blue eyes flicked between adapted Fire Nation armor and the pair of sky bison, the war on what to do with the newcomers clear on their faces.

“This child needs medical attention. I don’t think he’s injured, but he is exhausted and in need of care.” Ozai set him on the ice and stepped back. He was used to dealing with people who distrusted him on sight. Toned-down Fire Nation armor didn’t help matters, and he still stood like a firebender after all these years.

The girl stepped forward, gathering the airbender into her arms before hurrying into the tent. The boy remained, spear pointed at Ozai’s chest, eyes narrowed.

“That’s a bit useless, you know. I could kill you where you stand in a single breath.” His tone was casual, conversational. The boy snarled at him.

“I’d like to see you try.”

In response, Ozai dropped low, sweeping out with his legs and letting out a blast of air to knock the would-be warrior down. He was standing again in a second, the boy struggling to his feet.

“...Point taken.” The spear was no longer pointed at his chest, but the boy’s stance was still defensive. “But why are you still here?”

Ozai smirked. “I have my reasons.”

“Well, you can’t stay in the village. We don’t have the room.”

“That’s fine. My son and I like our space anyways.” Ozai backed away, watching as the boy relaxed, before touching Paya’s head and guiding her away, to a small alcove that he had spotted on the way down. He and Zuko would be fine there.

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Zuko shook out his hair, combing it through his fingers to get rid of some of the tangles that would still form even with it put up. His father was undoing Paya’s harness, with clear intentions to stay for a few days at least. Ah well, it wasn’t any worse than the Northern Water Tribe. At least here, they could go out and hunt far easier.

Once his hair was back up, held in place with a strip of cloth, Zuko walked out of the alcove and unsheathed his broadswords, spinning them apart expertly. They had been a gift for his sixteenth birthday, well-made and perfectly balanced. Zuko watched the sun catch on their blades, the reflected light dancing on Paya’s fur.

“Get warmed up. We’ll spar here in a few minutes.” Ozai pulled his staff off his back, and Zuko scowled slightly. He had wanted to practice on his own before throwing himself into the day’s training, but that wasn’t an option, it seemed. He ran through some quick warm up forms, moving through them dry. While the Water Tribesmen hadn’t hurt them yet, that could all change on a dime. His father was off a little ways away, moving fluidly from one form to the next, his staff a whirling, deadly weapon. Zuko knew how hard it could hit, and that had been an accident, just gravity pulling at it. He shuddered to think of the pain Ozai could inflict.

When both were warmed up, they took up their stances, Zuko meeting his father's cold gray gaze. Ozai insisted on being the one to move first, and he did so quickly, sweeping the staff at Zuko’s feet with one hand as an opening move.Zuko jumped, augmented with airbending, and hovered in the air for a half second too long. Ozai’s staff whipped back around, a two-handed strike that he had to deflect with one sword. He pushed it down, using the small advantage to gain a moment of footing on the metal rod to push off from, going for an aerial attack. Metal clanged against metal as Ozai blocked, shoving him out further that he intended to go. Zuko landed with a scowl, spinning and swiping out with a precise blade of air. His father simply dispelled it with his own airbending.

“Next time, move faster. Had I been a firebender, I could have struck you from behind during your flip.” Ozai stood up straight, clearly indicating that the spar was already over. Zuko huffed, putting his swords together before sheathing them.

“Whatever. I’m going to get our food supply and see if I need to fish or hunt.” He ignored the glare he received for his flippant dismissal of the lesson, instead going rummaging around in their food bag. Taking stock, he totaled that they had roughly a week’s worth of food. Enough to last without going hunting today, but they’d need to stock up before long.

“What I’m teaching you could very well save your life one day.”

Anger flared in Zuko’s chest. That’s all his father ever cared about. Survival. Even their nights of relaxation would happen far above the ground, deep in Earth Kingdom territory. The wind would carry the sound of their music away from prying ears, and the dark would hide their form, concealing them in safety. And Zuko was tired of it. He was tired of taking the Fire Nation into consideration at every turn, tired of never being allowed to truly live like even people in the other nations did.

“Haven’t I proven myself enough to you? I’ve saved your ass more times than I can count.”

“And I have saved you countless more.” Ozai crossed his arms, his face lined with anger. “We cannot afford to slip up even once.”

“Can’t you just lay off for one day? We’re about as far from the Fire Nation as it gets, and it’s still dark for most of the day. We’re not going to suddenly run into a firebender out here on this frozen wasteland.” Zuko threw out an arm for emphasis, his voice rising in volume.

“I am your father, and you will respect my choices!” Ozai snapped, turning away as his face twitched. “Take care of Paya and the other sky bison. I’m going on a flight.” The metal staff opened with a quiet click and Ozai took off, leaving Zuko alone to mutter angrily to their bison.

“Fucking asshole. He has to know how much I hate him, right? There’s no way he doesn’t know.” Zuko ran a comb through Paya’s thick white fur, collecting the shedded strands. They often used them in weaving projects, things to sell and entertain during long, lonely flights. They weren’t above stealing, quite the contrary, but paying was one of the only ways to get a good hot meal, or medical care when they needed it.

Zuko scowled as his thoughts turned inevitably towards the worst day of his life. He pushed them away, not wanting to think about his uncle’s hand pressed to his face despite his screams. His father didn’t have the stomach to even show up. And the next thing Zuko remembered was an Earth Kingdom forest, Ozai’s critical gaze hovering over him. He hadn’t known it then, but the rigorous training routine he had gone through at the palace was about to look like child’s play.

Sure, there were rare times Ozai allowed them both to let down their guard. But that was rare, only in places he was sure they could be safe. The Air Temples. Small airbender villages, scattered across the Earth Kingdom. A certain Water Tribe ship. But the majority of their lives was spent in the air and on the run, and Zuko was just tired of it all. Wanted, above all else, to go home.

“Too bad that’s not in the cards,” he said to nobody in particular, rubbing at the edges of his scar.

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Sokka watched the older airbender fly around on a glider, the cloth black as the night sky. He still didn’t trust them, even if they weren’t firebenders. That was Fire Nation armor, or at least, it had been at some point. And Fire Nation meant bad news. For both him and his sister.

They were the open secrets of the whole tribe. Katara’s waterbending and his airbending. Everyone knew, and everyone pretended they didn’t know. It was too dangerous to do anything else. And now, there was another airbender. A master airbender, if Sokka remembered his mother’s stories well enough. He had never seen the bright blue tattoos in person, and he wasn’t sure if there was a living person who had.

He glanced back at the kid lying on a spare set of furs, unconscious. He had started shivering pretty badly when the maybe-spy had stepped back from him. Sokka’s first thought had been firebending, but it hadn’t been fire that had knocked him over. Whatever. He still didn’t trust this random, clearly Fire Nation man who showed up and didn’t want to leave until the airbender was better. Perhaps he was looking to turn the Air Nomad in for a huge reward. He needed to protect the tribe. It’s what his father asked him to do, after all.

He slipped out of the tent again to reinforce the snow walls. Katara had offered to help, multiple times, but Sokka had reasoned with her. If the Fire Nation had noticed clear signs of waterbending, she and very likely both of them were dead. He was supposed to protect his baby sister.

He could still see the flying airbender in the distance, circling around the ice fields while keeping the village and the camp he had set up right outside it within sight. Quiet envy stirred within Sokka as he watched. He had always dreamed of gliding, of being one with his element, but it was impossible for him to do so. His mother had never learned, and she couldn’t teach him. He was stuck firmly on the ice, a grounded airbender whose heart ached for the sky.

What would happen if the boy never woke up? Would the other two airbenders leave, never to return? Sokka found himself disappointed by that reality. Right here was seemingly his only chance at learning how to bend. And they were clearly travelers; maybe they could take them north, to their sister tribe, and Katara could learn waterbending. Maybe they could both realize their dreams after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Katara watched her brother reinforce the walls, playing with a small sphere of ice. She wished he would just allow her to help, but he had a point in doing it himself by hand. Obvious signs of bending, were, well, obvious. And while it seemed unlikely that the Fire Nation would see, there was always the chance. So she was stuck helping in ways that weren’t quite so obvious. Oftentimes, when she’d accompany him on hunts, she’d catch the fish in a globe of water and position it for him to skewer, and they’d work in tandem this way to actually bring home enough food for their tribe. They had figured out the system pretty soon after their dad left.

Katara swiped at the hot tears that always formed when she thought of their father. Hakoda had just up and left. She hadn’t even been in the village, only Sokka had, and he hadn’t bothered waiting to say goodbye to her. Her last memory of him was his frustration when she was refusing to eat dinner that night. Something about the sea prunes had just made her gag, and she couldn't handle it on top of all the stress of her mother dying just a couple months prior. And then he had left them to fend for themselves, alone, functionally orphans. They could already be orphans and just not know it yet.

She let her gaze settle on the Air Nomad. He was cute, she supposed, but seeing him and the other airbender from afar made her realize that dudes just didn’t cut it for her. Which was somewhat disappointing. She wasn’t really looking forward to having to have kids just to have a chance at keeping bending alive in the Southern Water Tribe. The sphere of ice melted as she sighed, refreezing to the floor of their tent. She didn’t want to be a housewife, she wanted to be a warrior.

She remembered, one day, peeking over a ridge to watch her father spar with Bato. Sokka had joined her, both of them eager to pick up everything they could about fighting. Hakoda had yet to teach them anything beyond the basics, hunting spears and boomerangs. And Sokka eventually got lessons in airbending and melee fighting, but she was left behind, told to focus on her waterbending. Her brother did his best to share what he was learning, but more and more often, he would fall asleep even before he hit the furs. She couldn’t fault him for that, not when he was working as hard as he was.

And then their mother died and their father left, and both their lives got incredibly busy as they were left to take care of the weak and elderly as best they could, keeping their dwindling tribe alive as long as possible. Katara was beyond ready to give it all up just for a chance to learn how to properly fight, with her bending and without. She stood, brushing off her pants before walking outside. She needed to talk to Sokka.

He sat back from the pile of snow he had been compacting onto his wall as she came up behind him, turning to see her.

“How’s the airbender?”

Katara snorted. “Which one?” She sat next to him, helping with the wall manually. “The two in red are still outside the village, and the unconscious one is still, well, unconscious. He’s probably not waking up for a while”

“Probably.”

Sokka shrugged, sitting back and watching the sky. She followed his gaze, and realized he was watching one of the other airbenders as he flew around on a glider.

“We have to get out of this village.”

“But we’re supposed to take care of them.”

“Dad was supposed to take care of the tribe, Sokka. And he left us.”

He sighed, and Katara just crossed her arms and looked away.

“Don’t you want to learn how to bend properly?”

“I do.”

“This could be our only chance.”

“It could.”

They sat in silence for a beat before Sokka stood up. “I’ll talk them into taking us north soon. I can pick up airbending tips, and you can go to the Northern Water Tribe to learn waterbending.” He started to walk off, but Katara grabbed his arm and pulled him back into a hug.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

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He was flying towards a Water Tribe ship, a storm whirling around him. Desperation pushed him to fly faster, even if the winds fought him, tossing him like a ragdoll in the air. His glider was ripped away from him at the last second, and he plummeted towards the water, only saving himself with a gust of wind that let him land, rolling, onto the deck. Rain pounded him as he staggered to his feet, searching the faceless, blue-clothed bodies for the one person he cared about. Ozai spotted his wolf tail from the back, trying to run over to him. It felt like he was going backwards, the distance stretching out in front of him as time slowed, pure energy descending from the sky in slow motion. The sound was ripped away from his mouth as he screamed, arm outstretched, and then the lightning hit the mast. The boat exploded, sending them all flying, Ozai himself tumbling head over heels into inky water.

He jolted awake at the impact, gasping, the wild only whistling outside, not howling. His hand went to his opposite wrist, feeling the cool stone attached to the bracelet he wore at all times, tucked under his sleeve. He traced its circular outline with his thumb, trying to calm himself down. He hated the nightmares. They came and went in waves, ever since he was old enough to understand exactly what his father and brother would have done to him, had they found out he was an airbender. They had waned when he was older, and the only one hiding a secret, before coming back in full force when Zuko was born. One airbender was deadly. Two was a guarantee of death.

At least the subject of the nightmares was always shifting, he thought wryly, as he stood to go out. Listen to the wind like his mother taught him to. Zuko was still pressed into Paya, dead to the world, as he slipped past without a sound. Recently, they had become more and more like tonight’s, where the one ship he could truly let down his guard on was destroyed. Those were the ones he couldn’t shake, the ones that kept him up the rest of the night. At least he had managed to snag enough alcohol to last him weeks.

He uncorked the bottle of Earth Kingdom wine with his teeth, taking a few long chugs. Letting his eyes wander, his gaze fell on the stars, their indifferent twinkle making him feel that much more lonely. The wind didn’t sing like it did with his mother alive. It just sucked warmth away, leaving him cold and hollow. He took another swig, trying to warm himself up from the inside and failing. Ozai sank into a crouch, his chest aching as he tried to shove memory after memory back down, one hand keeping his head propped up. Sometimes, he just wished tears would come, to give him that cathartic release, but like everything they taunted him, the emotions staying stuck in him, making him feel on the edge of bursting.

He looked up at the stars again, downing yet more of the alcohol, as he made a silent promise to his mother and every other airbender the Fire Nation had killed. He would bring down his brother, one way or another, if it was the last thing he did.

It was funny, in a way. He had grown up on stories about how the Avatar inspired hope, and he remembered scoffing at the idea. If anything, the Avatar was nothing but disappointment these days. But as soon as Ozai realized who was in the iceberg, something he hadn’t had in a very long time was rekindled inside of him. Hope. He chuckled, shaking his head at the thought. But he had a solid plan now, instead of just ‘kill Iroh’. He would take the Avatar to Master Pakku first, find the kid an earthbending teacher, and then teach him firebending himself. Ozai may have been born an airbender, but he still learned every firebending kata and principle, including lightning generation. In fact, that very move is what, loosely, he had based his own airbending move off of, a forceful, precise drill of air that could stand up to even the metal Fire Nation ships and tanks. It had saved him countless times now.

He drained the rest of the bottle, scowling just a little at his own carelessness. But, he supposed, it had been an exceptionally rough night. So he went back to Paya, stashed the bottle away, and tried to relax enough to sleep again.

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Zuko could tell his father was a little more drunk than usual when Ozai just settled on Paya, working on a weaving project. Dark bags were under his eyes, and he could tell that it had been a rough night when Ozai didn’t respond to his declaration that they needed to hunt soon. It could probably wait a day, he decided, and settled down so his father was within sight range.

He was never an angry drunk. Zuko was beyond grateful for that, he had seen enough bar fights to know it could get ugly. Ozai seemed to pull inward, unwilling to vocalize much of anything. When he did, it was short, vitally important orders in the heat of battle. And Zuko wasn’t really too bothered by this. They were both naturally quiet people, so what if they went a whole day in relative silence?

Shaking out of his thoughts, Zuko dug out some salted meat and tossed it up to Ozai who caught it and gnawed. He then grabbed a knife and walked off a little, chipping at the ice to free a chunk. He tossed it in their pot and located their spark rocks, building and lighting a small fire, watching the white ice and snow slowly warm into clear, refreshing water.

Ozai came down halfway through the melting process, standing over the fire and staring impassively into the pot. Wind tugged at his hair as he waited for Zuko to hand him a cup, sipping it. He then settled down, rolling the tip of his goatee between two fingers. His eyes were fixed in the distance, and Zuko just ate his own meal, the salted meat made far more tolerable with water.

Days like this gave Zuko the perfect opportunity to practice his bending and his swordsmanship, without his father breathing down his neck. He started with firebending katas, warming up as the chi started to flow through him. They blended into airbending forms, or at least, their shared style of airbending, far more aggressive than what his father had told him Air Nomad bent like. He said it was like the wind personified, gentle and teasing and yet with all the potential of a typhoon. And then he’d grow quiet and take a drink from whatever alcohol he had selected for the night, before falling into a hushed, cracked description of one of his many training sessions under Fire Lady Ilah. Zuko saw the pain that filled his father’s eyes whenever she was mentioned, how deeply he missed her. Zuko felt it, too. After his own mother had left, it was just them, Ozai pushing him harder and harder while Iroh taught Azula how to be the perfect little heir.

Zuko forcefully turned his thoughts away from the palace as he shifted into pure airbending moves, suddenly as light as the wind, barely touching the ground before he was up in the air again. Flips and handstands, all augmented by airbending, making him feel weightless. It was the only time he allowed himself to lose himself in his element, dancing over the ground, always ending with a front flip that had him unsheathing his dao to move into his final set of exercises. Slashing at invisible enemies and ducking invisible blows, this is where he felt most at home. Extending the reach of his airbending with his swords, drawing power in his strikes from firebending katas, steel whirling around in defense and offense together. Light and agile, quick and deadly, exactly how his father wanted him to be.

When Zuko ended his practice and walked back to the small fire, he could have sworn he saw a flicker of pride in his father’s eyes. But it was gone just as fast, and Zuko pushed it to the back of his mind. His father was never proud of him, always hard stares and clipped words, telling him to do better next time. And what Zuko hated most is that despite everything, Ozai was right. They couldn’t afford to slip up.

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Hakoda leaned on the railing of his ship, watching the waves toss them around. This was as south as they had been since they had left, and the last time he had seen Ozai and Zuko, they had been heading in that direction. He wondered what they thought of his children as his hand drifted up to a sloppy braid, from which a golden bead hung. It matched Ozai’s earrings, even on the same side, and whenever Hakoda saw the gleam out of the corner of his eye he thought of the other man. Ozai had never outright stated how much danger he was constantly in, but seeing posters in the occasional port told enough of the story. Wanted for treason, dangerous airbenders.

To Hakoda, Ozai was anything but. He was the warmth of the sun and the refreshment of the summer breezes. When Hakoda could tease a rare smile out of him, or even rarer, a laugh, it lit up the whole room, deep and light all at the same time. The way he’d react to stolen kisses and the moments between just them, melting into Hakoda’s arms. Some nights, it was quiet conversations under the moon and the stars, some nights it was Hakoda telling stories to a drowsy airbender, holding him close to try and banish the memories. It was love.

He wondered when he’d next see the former prince of the Fire Nation. Wondered if maybe they could settle down in the Southern Water Tribe together, after Hakoda convinced him it was as safe as they were going to get. That’s even why he finally relented and went down there, to see what stock Hakoda’s words had. Hakoda’s eyes drifted up to the same stars that Ozai was watching, miles and miles away, both of them thinking about the other and dreaming of a better life.


End file.
